


Target Practice

by rebeccastceir



Series: An End. A Beginning.  - MOOD BOARD [5]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bets & Wagers, Blink and you'll miss it, Flirting, Fluff, Former Scion Hanzo Shimada, M/M, Post-Recall, Scion Hanzo Shimada, brief sighting of Noodle Dragons, kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:02:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27461638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebeccastceir/pseuds/rebeccastceir
Summary: “Unspecified wagers are hardly wise,” Hanzo grumbled.“Thought you were a gamblin’ man?” Jesse grinned.“What,” Hanzo grabbed an arrow from the quiver, nocked it, and released with barely a look at the target, “possibly gave you that idea?”
Relationships: Jesse McCree & Lena "Tracer" Oxton, Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada, Lena "Tracer" Oxton & Hanzo Shimada
Series: An End. A Beginning.  - MOOD BOARD [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2002075
Comments: 6
Kudos: 75





	Target Practice

Hanzo woke up the next morning grumpy, with a headache and some mild embarrassment. Winston had closed the gate again and Genji was holed up with the debriefing agent, so Hanzo had the morning to himself, and very little to do.

Well. That wasn’t _entirely_ accurate, now was it?

His eyes lit up as he remembered his purchases from the day before. Humming quietly, he made his way to the kitchen and got fresh water, then opened his second package first: an authentic Japanese tea set, and a fresh package of tea. Just the aroma was enough to soothe his frazzled nerves, and he took a few moments to savor it. He set the water to heat while he opened the tea pot, rinsing and swirling, admiring its shape and color, before doing the same with the matching cup. He measured out tea and added water, and then carried the whole set back to his room on the little bamboo tray.

His room wasn’t the _best_ place for a morning cup - he would have to find someplace in the base with a good view of the water - but for now, simply _having_ a cup of excellent tea soothed nerves he hadn’t even known were ruffled. Hanzo sat cross-legged on his bed as he drank, feeling more like himself than he had in _months_. He would _never_ go without tea again, if he could possibly help it. He could feel the dragons purring with contentment.

After his morning tea he reached for the first package, stopping for a few moments to appreciate the fabric, the feel and the colors, calming his nerves, soothing the cultural dysphoria he’d been feeling since he showed up in this wretched place. He wrapped it around his body with a smile - _wearing it_ made him feel even better. He felt more like _himself_.

A self he hadn’t been in a while, if he were being honest.

When he was dressed to his own satisfaction, he headed down to the shooting range. There was a weapon there that was _begging_ for his attention.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw the range was already occupied.

A man stood in the end lane, wearing a wide-brimmed cowboy hat, jeans, and a button-down shirt. His back was to the door - reloading, perhaps - and Hanzo smelled some kind of tobacco smoke at the same moment he spotted it curling out from underneath the hat. The man turned to fire - a massive handgun, almost too big to be fired one-handed, but he held it as steadily as if it were a leaf, and Hanzo realized with a start that this was _Jesse_. Six shots fired in quick succession, the recoil contained as if it were nothing, and Hanzo looked down-range - six shots, neatly grouped on the target. There were multiple six-shot clusters, in the target’s head, heart, and gut. Jesse moved the gun down to reload, and Hanzo caught a glimpse of red from under the hat. Jesse must’ve caught sight of him, too - he flipped the gun’s safety on before looking back up, and moved the thin cigar to the other side of his mouth, its glowing red tip catching Hanzo’s eye.

“Mornin’,” Jesse nodded, around the cigar. His eyes looked Hanzo over with as much curiosity as Hanzo’d been watching him. “Nice get-up.”

Hanzo smiled a little archly. “Nice belt buckle.”

Jesse flushed, slightly. “So, whaddaya call that?” He waved at Hanzo’s robe.

“A gi,” Hanzo said archly. “Traditional attire for a practitioner of kyudo.” He walked over to a weapons bank on the side of the range, where weapons of every shape and kind were made available for whoever wanted to try them. He reverentially lifted down the bow - a wooden longbow, well-crafted but somewhat neglected - well, the base itself had been neglected for a year, it wasn’t a surprise - and a quiver of arrows.

“Looks like a bath robe,” Jesse said.

Hanzo shot him a glare over his shoulder. “Only to the uneducated.”

Jesse’s chin went up, and he looked at Hanzo lazily from underneath his hat brim, jaw working slowly, red eye of the cigar moving like the head of a snake.

“Sounds like a bet,” Jesse finally drawled, as Hanzo carried the bow and quiver over to the range, one down from Jesse.

“A bet?” Hanzo scoffed. “What need have I of _bets_?”

“Ohh…” Jesse mused, “you win, I tell you what the boss’s got planned for next week.”

Hanzo shrugged. “I will find that out anyway.”

“Yeah. Next week.”

Hanzo smirked. “Patience is a skill I perfected long ago.” He tested the springiness of the bow, and thoroughly examined the string. Finding nothing immediately wrong with either, he placed one bowtip between his feet and looped the string over the other end, capturing the curve. Satisfied that nothing immediately cracked, he hefted the weapon and gave it a few short, experimental tugs, never holding it for too long, getting a feel for both the strength of the draw required and for the bow itself. The outer wood felt dry to his touch, but it bent smoothly, if a little stiffly, as he made deeper and deeper pulls. It would take very little to get it back into full condition. Someone had known how to care for this weapon, before the base had been shut down. Hanzo approved of the absent archer, whoever they’d been.

He gave another, longer draw on the bow, and then another, to its full draw, loosening it again almost instantly. He didn’t like how much effort it took - he was out of practice. But he could hold it long enough to teach this cowboy something.

“Wager something more interesting,” he demanded, turning.

Jesse moved the cigar around in his mouth, his eyes unreadable in the shadows cast by his hat brim. He took the cigar out of his mouth. “I’ll give you a taste of what you wanted last night,” he said clearly, immediately.

There was no flirtation in it, not a drop, but Hanzo felt his cheeks burning angrily, felt the heat rising in his gut, and he scowled. “And what if you win?”

Jesse shrugged. “I’ll think of something.” There was no flirtation in that, either.

“Unspecified wagers are hardly wise,” Hanzo grumbled.

“Thought you were a gamblin’ man?” Jesse asked.

“What,” Hanzo asked, as he grabbed an arrow from the quiver, nocked it, and released with barely a look at the target, “possibly gave you that idea?”

He stared at Jesse while Jesse looked down-range. Watched the way he straightened in surprise when he saw that the arrow had perfectly skewered the target. But he saw only Jesse’s teeth as he grinned.

“Alright,” Jesse drawled, sticking his cigar back in his mouth and looking down at his own weapon, turning back to his own lane to reload. “Let’s make this interestin’.” He inserted rounds, one after the other, while he thought. “I win, you tell me…somethin’ you _weren’t_ planning on tellin’ that agent.”

He looked up with a grin to see how Hanzo would take the bet, and stopped dead, his eyes widening.

“What’s the matter, cow man?” Hanzo smirked.

Jesse was staring at his chest.

Hanzo had shaken his left arm out of the sleeve, and tucked the sleeve into the back of his obi, out of the way, exposing half his chest. Half of his very muscular chest.

Jesse seemed to have forgotten how to breathe for a moment, and when he did, he sounded shaken. “Y-your tattoo…” he rasped.

“Yes?” Hanzo smirked, looking at it. “What of it?”

Jesse approached, attention seemingly glued to it. “I saw Genji’s but never…” he shook his head. He still sounded shaken. “You have _two_ dragons?”

“Yes,” Hanzo nodded, smirk deepening. “If you win, I will even tell you what they do.”

Jesse’s eyes darted up quickly, and this close Hanzo could see it - Jesse didn’t know _exactly_ what Genji’s did, either. Jesse’s eyes roamed around his face for a minute, assessing, and then all at once he straightened up and relaxed back, grinning. “Well alright,” he drawled. It was practically a _leer_. “Sounds like we got ourselves a bet.” He moved back to his own lane. “You want first draw, darlin’?”

“Unnecessary,” Hanzo sniffed. “But change your target first.”

Jesse grinned and hit the button, while Hanzo went back to the weapons rack and found a bracer. He strapped it to his left forearm as he walked back, watching out of the corner of his eye as Jesse pinned a new target to the clip and sent it down the lane. Jesse caught him watching, and held his eye, grinning widely, as he sent the target back even farther.

Hanzo raised an eyebrow. “Accuracy is more impressive than length,” he taunted.

“Why not have both?” Jesse purred. And ooh, _that_ was _definitely_ suggestive.

They grinned at each other, until Jesse’s target was where he wanted it.

“You wanna take the arrow outta yers, darlin’?”

“Why?” Hanzo smirked. “It is my target.” He winked as he turned, nocked, drew, and released. His arrow flew true - Hanzo was secretly relieved to see his aim hadn’t faltered in the past year - and split his practice shot. He looked at Jesse.

The only reason Jesse’s jaw wasn’t hanging on the floor was because he didn’t want to lose his cigar. But his posture definitely said he was impressed.

“Right.” He straightened up, tilted his hat brim down lower, lifted his gun, and fired, six shots in succession. Not as loud as Hanzo’d expected - he must’ve modified his weapon somehow. He looked at Hanzo expectantly.

Hanzo shrugged, and loosed five more arrows, one after the other, hand reaching for the next the moment he released the first, the leathery slap of bowstring into the bracer beating out a steady rhythm. When he was done he looked at Jesse, and they both reached for their target buttons at the same time. Hanzo saw Jesse’s eyes widen when his target drew near: the split practice arrow, still skewered down the middle by his first betting shot, the following five nestled around it, with no space between them. Hanzo smirked as he carefully drew the arrows out of the target, revealing there were no gaps in the rubber backing, either - he _really had_ nestled them that close.

Jesse swallowed and looked at his own. “Well,” he drawled around the cigar. His posture relaxed suddenly, smugly, as he unclipped it. “Wouldja lookit that.”

He held it up: six shots, so tightly grouped that they formed one hole, only its scalloped edges revealing it had been formed by separate bullets.

Jesse took the cigar out of his mouth. “Think they call that a tie, darlin’.” He put two spent bullet casings on the shelf in front of him, and set his cigar down on them carefully, and then stepped toward Hanzo.

Hanzo felt his throat tightening up nervously - oh right. The bet. Payment.

Jesse’s hands slid to his waist as he stepped in close, tilting his head. He waited, until Hanzo caught up, putting his hands on Jesse’s - On Jesse’s _very muscular_ biceps - he’d been trying really hard to figure out how muscular Jesse was, and oh gods, he was so _very_ \- and looked up. Jesse closed the distance. Hanzo tried not to melt. This close, he could smell Jesse’s cologne under the cigar smoke, and the cologne and smoke blended together, into something warm and woody and rich. His mouth opened immediately, and Jesse came in, not hesitating, but not pushy. He _tasted_ like smoke, or like smoke always smelled, rich and sweet, like honey, and Hanzo’s fingers curled into his shirt, wanting to -

Jesse drew away, leaving him feeling bereft. A little breathless.

 _Angry_.

Right.

The bet.

Hanzo scowled, breathing a little heavier than he wanted to admit, and held his left hand out to the side, grumbling under his breath. The tattoos _glowed_ , and seemed to rise out of his skin, until two fully-formed, but small, glowing blue spirit dragons were standing on him. As soon as they were complete they scampered up Hanzo’s arm, around his shoulders, down his other arm to Jesse, around the back of Jesse’s neck, and then down Hanzo’s waiting arm again, where they wrapped around him and sank back into his skin.

“They can be as big as I want,” Hanzo grumbled. “And as kind or as vicious as I please. And they _can_ do physical damage.”

Jesse nodded slowly, and if he was surprised by them, he had already covered it. “Huh.” He stepped away again, turning back to his own alley, and he had no sooner gone than Hanzo heard the range door open behind them.

“Hey, guys!” Lena chirped.

Jesse nodded to her absently as he reloaded.

“What’s - oh!” Lene stopped and eyed Hanzo. “Nice tats! Is that a kyudo-gi? Where’d you get it? It’s lovely!”

“I had it made in town,” Hanzo said, trying not to sound stiff and sullen. He bowed his head politely at her. “One thing that former yakuza spend their money on. Thank you for suggesting it.”

“Oh!” She flushed faintly and smiled. “Well, you’re welcome. Do you always slip one sleeve off when you shoot? Maybe you could get one made without it.”

“It is…a thought,” Hanzo agreed. _It wouldn’t get caught on things_ …

“Anywhoodles,” she continued. “I just wanted to tell you guys - guess what Winston’s got planned for next week?”

“Shooting gallery?” Jesse murmured to himself.

“A shooting gallery!” She beamed at Hanzo. Then, seeing that he didn’t quite understand its import, she added, “It’s soooo much fun! Athena runs, like, this live interactive mission, and we all have training rounds, but we run it like it’s for real, and guess what?” She clapped her hands excitedly, grinning from ear to ear. “You and Genji get to be in this one!”

Hanzo was surprised, and didn’t bother to hide it. “Genji and I?”

“Yes!” She looked back and forth between him and Jesse. “Winston got word from the higher-ups: we’re to start training and incorporating you into our team exercises, in preparation for putting you in the field.”

“Surprise…” Jesse drawled, under his breath.

“And guess what else?” she clapped, including Jesse in her demands for attention. “Guess! Guess who’s coming?”

Jesse stopped and turned his head. “Who?”

“Tor!”

He put the gun down instantly and laughed, all his former intensity gone in an instant. “Really?” he pushed his hat back, exposing his bright, amber-whiskey eyes. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“I know, right?!” She bounced away to the weapons cabinet and came back with two pulse pistols. “Hey Hanzo, you any good with that thing?”

Jesse laughed as he holstered his gun, shaking his head and patting Hanzo on the clothed shoulder as he passed him. “I’ll let you two make your own fun. Hey Winston!” he shouted through the open range door. “Y’got breakfast ready yet?”

“Make your own fucking breakfast,” Winston growled, as the door shut behind Jesse.

Lena grinned and wiggled her eyebrows at Hanzo. “Wanna make a bet?”

“With what?” he asked, suddenly a little wary.

“Money, of course,” she laughed. “What else is worth wagering?”

Hanzo could think of several things he was more interested in wagering at the moment. But he got a mental image of compound bows, and hakama, neither of which he could currently afford, and smiled at Lena. “What else indeed?”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm having to learn a LOT of Overwatch lore AND Japanese culture for these fics! Fun times!! 
> 
> Seriously - I love it!


End file.
